


One of a Multitude

by PutItBriefly



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Addiction recovery is a process that does not end, F/M, Family, Post Season Six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:43:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PutItBriefly/pseuds/PutItBriefly
Summary: Rumplestiltskin used to love it when a desperate soul told him they would do *anything.* The time has come for him to offer up his own anything.





	One of a Multitude

Trial, error and ever-changing needs had taught Belle that Gideon’s current optimal bedtime was 7:30. The library closed at 6 PM. Once the door was shut and locked behind her began the most hectic and important hour and a half of her day.

Pick-up Gideon.

Watch him while preparing his dinner.

Feed him.

Play with him.

Bathe him. 

Dress him in his pyjamas.

Brush his fine baby hair.

Brush his tiny baby teeth.

Read to him.

Say night-night to Papa.

One more bottle, and then off to bed.

It was a good routine. A comforting and cosy routine. It kept Belle’s heart and mind so full that during this hour and a half, the memory that she almost didn’t have this was so far away it could almost belong to another person.  

Much as she called it a routine, the timing of it was never the same from one day to the next. Sometimes, Gideon was so fussy when she was trying to make his dinner that he ate too late. Happening more and more often recently, play time dragged on because he was clearly contemplating letting go of the furniture and taking a step on his own. Often, Belle could not resist the call of reading an extra book or three. There were days where he was just vaguely unsettled and needed extra cuddles. And sometimes Gideon took the initiative to change the routine on his own, throwing himself into Mummy’s open arms and giving her a big slobbery baby kiss on her cheek or nose or chin.

Babies were always learning. From the day they brought him home, every experience was another lesson. Gideon had so many things to learn about himself! In the beginning, his lessons were things like how to focus his eyes or hold his head up. Now, he was learning to walk. And he had so many things to learn about the world around him! He had to learn to sleep at night. He learned what was food and what was not by testing everything with his mouth. 

Of the multitude of things a baby learned, Gideon learning to kiss Mummy was one of Belle’s very favorite lessons.

(Sometimes, she wondered if he knew that. Was his mind developing along with his body, or had he retained knowledge from his previous life, and lacking only the ability to say so?)

Tonight was one of his fussy nights. He fought being dressed in rocketship pyjamas. He thrashed his head while Belle combed his hair. He kicked as she brushed his teeth. It wasn’t until they were settled on the sofa with a pile of boardbooks that he calmed down. Gideon gnawed on  _ Blue Hat, Green Hat _ while she read the  _ The Going to Bed Book, _ and then they swapped.

Gideon was just a baby. Even if he had wished to, mindfully watching the clock and being careful about his routine was beyond his abilities. It was up to the adults to be when and where they needed to be.

“Where is Papa?”

Gideon said “Pa!” and threw the books on the floor.

It was unlike Rumplestiltskin to absent himself during Gideon’s bedtime routine. Though he feigned little interest or pleasure in boardbooks, he usually joined them in the living room when it was time to read. Belle knew he liked to watch her read to their son. 

Belle scooped up Gideon and went in search of Rumple. He was not in the kitchen, preparing the adults’ meal. She peered out the window, but he was not in the garden. If he had gone upstairs, they would have crossed paths when she came down with Gideon after his bath.

She bit her lip.

The basement.

Belle hated bringing Gideon into his father’s laboratory. Bubbling potions and spellbooks that would bite you just as soon as allow you to read them should be kept far away from a baby. Perhaps it was silly of her. Gideon went to the shop with his father every day and that didn’t set the corners of her brain on fire. But in the shop, everything was locked away in safes or display cases. The glowing vials of bottled  _ something _ were corked and sorted. To Belle, there was a distinction between the active magic in the basement and the inert magic in the shop, patiently waiting for a customer. 

Maybe that was only in her own mind.

“Let’s check, hm?”

Steeling her shoulders, Belle crept carefully down the steps. She would not teach her son to fear magic. Her skepticism was born of her own experiences. However Gideon felt about magic should be determined by his experiences. His older self had been a powerful sorcerer. Belle hoped his second chance would be a peaceful life and he would never feel that he must draw on that part of himself. But she also knew that despite the Black Fairy’s efforts, Gideon’s magic had never been corrupted. His power wasn’t like Rumple’s; it didn’t come from a curse. He had been conceived with true love. It was light magic that had taken root in Gideon’s soul. Belle hoped Gideon would never feel pressured to use magic, but she didn’t want him to be ashamed of that part of him, either. 

If she taught him to fear the magic in the basement, she would be teaching him to fear himself.

From the bottom step, Belle could hear the whir of the spinning wheel.

Rumple spun.

Often.

Most of his spinning was done at night. When everyone else was asleep, but his curse kept him awake, Rumple sat at his wheel. If he had a lot to think about, he could be found at his wheel during the day. 

Belle did not take another step.

That Rumple was at his wheel now, when he must have known she expected him upstairs, was a bad sign. Had she not held Gideon in her arms, Belle would have marched right back upstairs, waited for Rumple to surface and then demanded an explanation. He was troubled or he was plotting and either way, he needed to be completely open with her.

But she  _ did _ have Gideon.

And she  _ would not _ teach Gideon to run. 

Her head held high, Belle strode past an empty work table, past the shelves of neatly sorted spellbooks. Her heart shuddered as she stepped around a basket of gold thread and she tried to not think about a cuff she once wore. Why did he need all that?

Rumple heard her approach. His hand stopped the wheel instead of urging it on. He looked up. “Hey.”

“Gideon would like to say good night.”

Rumple put down the wool and pushed his stool back just enough to make room for Gideon to sit on his lap. He reached out for his son and Belle relinquished him.

Belle knew that sometimes, when Gideon woke during the night and Rumple couldn’t get him back to sleep, they would come down to the basement just to watch the wheel spin. Rumple couldn’t spin wool with his son in his arms, so he would just push the wheel. He got the idea from the ceiling fan, he said. When Rumple noticed Gideon was mesmerised by watching the ceiling fan spin, he thought he might like the spinning wheel, too.

They didn’t know how much of Gideon’s first life he would take with him. If he remembered now but would forget; if he didn’t know now but would remember later; if he was a blank slate, brand new in every way. Belle remembered his voice, though. The tone. The pitch. The timbre. That Gideon had been more Mr. Gold than Rumplestiltskin, all simmering power and calm threats, never too far from tears. But the morning Rumple told her Gideon watched the wheel spin with as much fascination as he did the ceiling fan, Belle imagined her son say,  _ I like to watch the wheel. Helps me forget. _

It wasn’t a joke when it was Gideon’s voice.

Gideon stood on his father’s lap, facing him. He had become good at standing on the floor, but he couldn’t balance on his father’s thighs. Rumple steadied him with his hands on Gideon’s waist.

“Good night, Gideon.” Rumple kissed him on the forehead. “Papa loves you.”

Rumple’s hold on Gideon’s hips was just enough to help him stay upright. When Gideon launched himself forward for a hug, the motion wasn’t stopped at all. Gideon kissed his papa on the nose, but in all honestly, he took so much of Rumple’s nose into his mouth, there was probably a lot of chopping going on, too.

The entire scene was so sweet that Belle couldn’t help the charmed laugh that escaped her. 

Rumple sat completely still. He was not even breathing.

The shock wave began with the pair of them and radiated outward with enough force that Belle was pushed into the table behind her. 

And then, Gideon was curled against his father’s chest, babbling happily and looking no worse for wear.

Rumple’s eyes were shut tight.

Whatever just happened, it was  _ magic. _

Rumple kissed Gideon again and wordlessly handed him to Belle. He braced his elbows on his knees, covered his face with his hands and Belle said nothing. Whatever all this was was not a discussion to have when their son needed to be in bed. With one more awkward glance at the man perched on a precipice on a stool, Belle took Gideon upstairs to his bedroom. 

Coaxing Gideon into falling asleep took longer than it usually did. He had been fine downstairs when the magic wave happened, but upstairs, he had begun to pick up on his mother’s agitation. It took extra helpings of rocking and singing for him to nod off in her arms. Gently as she could manage, she laid him in his crib.

Belle crept downstairs.

Rumple was in the living room, staring at a skein of yarn. Belle doubted he was aware she came down. All of his focus appeared to be on the yarn. He turned it over and over, his fingers exploring every ridge.

“Hey.”

It had been ridiculous to ever suppose herself beyond his notice. “Hi.” 

Her movements were still slow and careful as she approached the couch. Rumple didn’t appear to have anything more to say.

“So. That was...unexpected.”

“When our boy was grown”—and that was always the way they talked about, neutrally. Once, he was grown. Now, he is not. “He thanked me. He thanked me for fighting for him.”

Belle swallowed back the frissons of guilt that welled up. In retrospect, Belle was still not entirely sure what those lucid dreams that guided her choices around the time of Gideon’s birth were—if it had truly been her fetus, so strongly attuned to her and magically adept that he could talk to her, be it his own opinions or voicing her fears, or if it had been the Black Fairy herself, already manipulating them all to ensure Gideon was vulnerable. Either way, she knew that Gideon thanking Rumple was not the same as Gideon condemning her for trying to separate them.

Still, sometimes it was hard to keep from blaming herself. If she had just told herself her dreams were just  _ dreams, _ Gideon’s years of suffering never would have happened. 

“I told him,” Rumple continued, “that I would do anything for him.”

Belle’s reply was the hopelessly banal, “Of course you would. He knew that.”

He smiled, grim. “I used to love it when a desperate soul told me they would do  _ anything. _ It meant I could take something precious from them, something they couldn’t bear to part with.”

Rumple placed the yarn on the coffee table. He spread his hands. “My anything. I don’t know how to move forward, Belle. I only know—if I am going to be the father I want to be, the father Bae had when we were  _ happy _ —I can’t be that man with a devil on my shoulder.”

Gideon’s kiss broke the curse.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were planning this?”

“I knew if I talked about, even thought about it too much, I would have talked myself out of it.”

“How do you feel?”

“Old. Tired.” He sighed, a deep sound that must echo in his bones. “Afraid of what comes next.”

“There is no next.” Belle slipped her fingers around his wrist and squeezed. “This is the end.”

“It’s not. The end of the curse? Perhaps. But curses leave their mark. They stay with you. I have found a way to restore it before. Don’t think I couldn’t do it again. It was so  _ easy.”  _ Something wistful lingered in his voice.

“No,” Belle said fiercely. “No, you won’t do it again. Not when you  _ want _ to be a better man. I know…” She swallowed hard. “I know I’ve berated you a lot for never giving up power for me, but maybe this is what you needed. To give it up for  _ you. _ You know the man  _ you _ want to be. You know your reasons for wanting that.” 

“I’m still an addict. Breaking the curse is one choice—today’s choice, but there will be more. I still have a shop full of totems and potions. You saw the gold I spun, just to ensure that I had it if I need— _ when _ I reach for it.”

“This was the right decision. It was a  _ big _ right decision. The more you make good choices, the easier it will become. You’ll see. You won’t regret this.”

“Belle.” Rumple moaned and buried his face in his hands again. “I already regret it.”

She drew him to lean against her. “I will be here,” Belle promised. “Every step, every choice.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The books mentioned are both by Sandra Boynton.  
> Proofreading was by Darthmelyanna and Ramurphy2005.


End file.
